


Touch

by breatherepeat



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Comforting Jesus (Walking Dead), Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jesus (Walking Dead) is a Little Shit, M/M, Massage, Psychological Trauma, Repressed Memories, Stubborn Daryl Dixon, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:10:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatherepeat/pseuds/breatherepeat
Summary: Jesus notices that Daryl is favoring his shoulder and offers to help ease the pain with a massage. Daryl, fighting all his natural instincts to avoid touch, allows Jesus to help him. Through the therapeutic touch to help ease the pain in his shoulder, repressed memories are brought to the surface that Daryl has long avoided.





	1. Chapter 1

Jesus had always been told he was a vigilant person. Small details that others overlooked were blatantly obvious to him within a matter of seconds. Jesus called it a curse because his mind was always “on” and scanning his surrounds looking for something. Perhaps it had to do with his upbringing. More than one therapist had mentioned the terms “complex trauma” and “hypervigilance” to him when he was younger. Little did they know that the thing they tried to cure him of was going to be one of the tools he would use to survive when the dead began to walk.

He was able to read Rick and Daryl quickly from his position on the roof of the building. He had spotted the large trunk in the distance from his hidden spot and smirked as they stopped the vehicle right below him. Some people made it so easy for him.

Rick was the clear leader of the pair, with Daryl following him along protecting his back. Rick walked with a confidence all his own, scanning the area like a trained police officer. Daryl displayed some of the same hypervigilance qualities of Jesus’ own, with Daryl’s scan on the area more instinctual than training. He had watched them for a few more minutes and determined they were the perfect people to vet a little more.

Their meeting began the series of events that would lead to the War. The joining of the communities and the battle against the narcissistic motormouth of the Saviors. Negan was the classic villain for the hero’s journey against the battle of good and evil. The people of the Saviors both feared and respected their boastruous leader. With Negan behind bars, his people were freed of their fear and began to find a new respect for a different type of leader.

With the War over, at least for now, the communities faced the challenge of rebuilding. With the larger numbers and shared resources, the groups banned together to create a new way of life. With any new beginning, there were more than a few kinks to work out. However, everyone was motivated for the change and kinks were dealt with as they arose.

 

One such kink was observed by Jesus as Daryl winced raising his crossbow during their hunt. The forests surrounding Hilltop were scarce for animals; however, if one was patient enough, a few small game could still be found. In the distance, both Jesus and Daryl spotted the rabbit, and Daryl was quick to raise his weapon to take his shot at adding meat to the community food bank. With the sudden wince, Daryl misfired and his bolt ended up a few feet away from his target.

“Dam’nt.” Daryl lowered his crossbow as he cursed. His shoulder had been bothering him for awhile now, since before the War even began. He had been resting it as much as he could, but the damn thing just wouldn’t heal. With uncharacteristic heavy feet, Daryl left Jesus’ side  to retrieve his bolt out of a dead branch.

Walking closer to Daryl as the man scowled at the bolt to see if it would be used again, Jesus voiced his concern. “You need to get that shoulder looked at before it is permanently damaged.”

“Yeah?” Daryl turned his scowl from the bolt to his tag along for the day. Daryl had wanted to go hunting on his own to clear his head a bit and get away from the ever growing number of people at Hilltop. Jesus had other ideas and jumped down from a tree ten minutes into Daryl’s attempt to have a quiet afternoon. Daryl had threatened that if Jesus couldn’t keep his mouth shut during the hunt, Daryl would do it for him. Jesus, much to his credit, did not smart back with a comment to exactly how Daryl would shut Jesus’ mouth for him. Even further to his credit, Jesus had remained quiet throughout their afternoon in the woods until his comment on Daryl’s shoulder. “What’da know about it?”

“I have had a few injuries and you are favoring your left shoulder.” Jesus scanned Daryl’s tense body for a reaction. Daryl was a very prideful man and he knew that the idea of not being able to hunt for his family would devaste him. It was a sensitive subject, but Jesus also knew Daryl would not seek medical attention on his own. “You should have someone look at it.”

Jesus was curious to see if Daryl would go silent on him or explode. Daryl shifted his crossbow higher on his right shoulder and turned to return to the community. Silent Daryl it was.

Knowing that he already opened the door to the conversation, Jesus continued with his advise. “Shoulder injuries are common among crossbow users. Added to your previous injury that likely never healed correctly given your time at the Sanctuary, you run the risk of permanent injury if you don’t do something about it. Rest is probably the best medicine right now but you continue to use the injured shoulder with the rebuild efforts. The doctor might have some other suggestions. Today proves that you need to rest and perhaps-”

Jesus stopped as Daryl turned abruptly and stared at him with half covered eyes. Daryl could express a lot through his facial expressions and body movements. Jesus, ever the vigilant observer, had come to learn Daryl’s body language through Daryl’s interactions with others. Daryl was most expressive when interacting with individuals he did not know as well. Interactions with them put Daryl in protection mode and his piercing stare would ward off anyone wishing him harm, real or inferred. Daryl’s interactions with his immediate family were softer, with less of a wall between Daryl and the outside world. Jesus had never seen Daryl completely at ease with himself though, even around Rick and Carol.

“I am semi-trained in massage if you would like me to work on it.” Jesus respectfully ignored Daryl’s efforts to end the conversation; however, he remain still as he spoke and kept the physical distance between them. “I never finished the certificate program but I practiced on friends and everyone had good things to say. I found a book a few runs ago that is an _Idiot’s Guide to Therapeutic Massage_. I’ve been reading it and it-”

“Ain’t doin’ that.” Daryl shook his head as he turned back on the path back to Hilltop. He didn’t need Jesus getting any ideas about being his savior. Jesus had a habit of finding pet projects and damned if he was going to be someone’s pet anything. His shoulder needed rest and he would give it rest. That was all.

Taking a quick breath, Jesus threw all rational thought out of his head and reached to press a spot midway between Daryl’s spine and the top of his shoulder blade. The book had said that people with shoulder injuries would respond well to pressure in that area. Jesus had been reading up on shoulder injuries since he found the book. He didn’t need to analyze his sudden curiosity on shoulder injuries and treatment for them, but Jesus figured it would be a way to develop some sort of connection with the closed-off man. Jesus had never shied away from a challenge and with the communities finally settling down enough, he wanted to explore if there was any possibility of a relationship with Daryl.

“The fuck.” Daryl tensed at the foreign hands on his shoulder and all but threw his crossbow in Jesus’ direction. The spot Jesus had pressed on his shoulder was tender but the slight pressure it was quickly given gave him some relief from the pain. Still, Jesus was lucky he was a ninja with quick reflexes or he would be laying on the ground with a deep gash in his head from the heavy weapon. With a heated breath and large step forward, Daryl stepped into Jesus’ personal space and lowered his tone to an intense growl as he stared him down. “You lost your damn mind pretty boy? Ever heard of askin’ first?”

“Sorry, but you are so damn stubborn and I wanted to show you I could help.” Jesus raised his hands in surrender but stood his ground. He knew Daryl wouldn’t hurt him, not too bad anyway. He knew he was likely to get this reaction and that Daryl would never ask for it on his own. Jesus waited for Daryl to even his heavy breathing a bit before continuing. “Let me help.”

“No.” Daryl gave Jesus one last deep glare and turned away from him to enter through the outside gate to Hilltop. Ignoring the friendly greeting he received from the guard on duty, Daryl kept his head down as he rubbed the back of his tender shoulder on his way to his small trailer in the back of the property.

Jesus, mentally kicking himself for breaking the number one rule with trauma survivors, unconsented touch without warning, made his way to his own trailer.

 

Jesus had kept a respectful personal distance from Daryl since their first meeting. Jesus sensed something about the man that made him very eager to explore his suspicion but there always seemed to be never ending obstacles placed in his way. Even though he had only known him for a short time before he was taken by Negan, Jesus knew Daryl returned to the group a changed person. His actions leading to the War and during the War was not the Daryl that Jesus met before the communities joined together. The Daryl he first met was slowly coming back with every new goal accomplished among the joined communities. With every reassurance that their people were safe and people could learn to start living again, Daryl began to forgive himself a little more. Jesus watched him start to interact with his family more and even develop a few new bonds with others at Hilltop. A least as much as Daryl would bond with someone he didn’t know all that well.

He had learned bits and pieces about Daryl through interactions with Daryl’s family and other members of Alexandria. There were many gaps to Daryl’s past that Jesus learned even his closest family members did not know. From what he could gather, the story pointed to a guarded past and a man that preferred to keep his distance, both physically and emotionally, from others. However, with every month since the dead began to roam, people’s lives before the turn became less and less important. What was important in the new world was what was tangible and directly in front of you. Food and supplies, and the connections you built with other survivors, were what mattered now.

Daryl retreated to his tasks at Hilltop and all but avoided Jesus. If their paths crossed, Daryl would acknowledge his presence but he did not engage in conversation. Jesus, knowing that he already crossed a clear boundary, decided to give Daryl his space and not press the matter. There was much to do around the communities and Jesus put his efforts into what he could control.

 

Jesus was finishing the newest book he had borrowed from Maggie by candlelight when he heard the knock on the door. It was late and most of the community was asleep. It was too quiet to be an emergency so he did not rush on his way to open the door. Dog-earing his page, Jesus stood and pulled his discarded shirt over his head before answering. Standing on the other side of the door was he last person Jesus expected in the middle of the night. “Everything okay?”

Unconsciously shifting his tender shoulder, Daryl looked down at his boots and then back up before providing a simple answer. “Shoulder kills.”

“And?” Jesus tried his hardest to keep the smirk out of his voice as he raised his arm to lean against the frame of the open door but Daryl must have picked up on the hint because he started to turn to leave. Mentally yelling at himself for being so stupid, Jesus lowered his arm and tried again with a genuine response. “I’m sorry. Please come in.”

Daryl walked into Jesus’ home and looked around the candlelit space. His trailer was divided up into two main areas, with a living space and a bedroom. There was an open door going into the bedroom area; however, outside of a bed, the room was too dark to see much else. The living space was tidy, with everything in its place. Except for the large stacks of books covering most of the flat surfaces. It looked lived-in, unlike his own trailer. Daryl’s makeshift home had a bed and a few sets of clothes, with a knife under his pillow and two crossbows hung on the wall. Other than a lumpy old chair that did not get much use, Daryl’s trailer was quite bare.

Shifting on his left foot, Daryl raised his right thumb to his mouth to chew on the corner of its nail and moved to sit on the small couch. Once he sat, he pulled the thumb from his mouth and looked down at his hands, tracking Jesus’ movements out of the corner of his eye. Jesus followed him to the couch and sat with one leg underneath him so he could face Daryl.

“So…” Jesus spoke after a few moments of awkward silence. Daryl sat looking everywhere except directly at him. In the sparsely lit room, with hair falling into his face, Daryl looked much younger than his age. “Your shoulder is still bothering you.”

“I already said that.” Daryl huffed as he finally made eye-contact with the other man. He did not like that Jesus was the one that he needed, especially after his stunt the other day, but the pain was not going away and he was beginning to notice a decline in his ability to help around the communities. “Said you'd help.”

“I can try.” Jesus gave him a soft smile and immediately regretted it when Daryl went to stand.

“Forget it.” Daryl knew it was a mistake asking for help and he wasn’t going to stay around and be made fun of. Or flirted with. Or whatever the hell Jesus was attempting to do with him.

“I’m sorry. Please, stay.” Jesus went to reach for Daryl’s arm and stopped himself before he made contact. Another touch would probably send Daryl away for good. He lowered his hand to his side right before Daryl turned back around. It was harder to read his facial expressions in the dim light but he could sense that Daryl was having a deep conversation with himself about whether he would stay or leave before Jesus made him even more uncomfortable. “I promise. I will behave and try to help with your shoulder.”

Daryl sat back down on the couch and Jesus praised himself for the small victory. “Take your shirt off and I will get the book. It is somewhere in the kitchen area. I think I have some oils as well.”

Jesus turned his back away from the couch as he busied himself with the pursuit of finding the massage book and the oils.  It didn’t take too long to find what he needed, with Jesus turning through the pages of the book as he walked closer to the candle by the table with his supplies. Opening the book to find the part about shoulders, Jesus refreshed himself on the anatomy of the shoulder and the technique described, Jesus hummed under his breath. Once he felt he has versed on what he needed to do, Jesus lifted his head and found Daryl sat on the couch with his shirt still on.

“Hey, shirt off and I can get started.” Jesus set the book and his oil next to his abandoned book from earlier on the coffee table. Pulling his hair up and out of his face, he secured it in a high bun and stood directly behind Daryl on the couch.

“Don’t need no fancy oils and don’t need my shirt off.” Daryl rubbed his t-shirt covered shoulder as he leaned forward. This was not going to work if Jesus thought he was going to be doing all of that. Jesus did not know about the scars that covered his body and he did not need to know about Daryl's weakness. The scars were a constant reminder that he was once weak and he hated them. Maybe he would just tough it out and hope for the best. Never needed anyone for anything before and he turned out just fine.

Counting to three in his head, Jesus paused and reminded himself that Daryl was coming to him for help and placing himself in a vulnerable position; therefore, Jesus would need to follow Daryl’s lead on this. “Okay. We can do it that way too. I need you to sit back a bit more.”

Daryl hesitated for a few moments and then sat so his back was flush against the back of the couch. Tensing his shoulders, Daryl winced as the muscle spasmed in his shoulder. His inner dialogue consisted of reminding himself that he was here because Jesus had offered to help and the shoulder really was killing him. His sleep, which was sparse even before the apocalypse, was almost nonexistent due to the pain. He had thought about drinking himself to sleep, but he was a nasty drunk and needed to remain alert in case of an attack. He needed to do something or he would soon be completely useless to the group.

“I’m going to touch your shoulder now. It is likely going to hurt, especially at first. Let me know if it is too much and I will ease up.” Jesus hovered his hands above Daryl’s left shoulder, with the back of the couch low enough for Jesus to reach most of it without too much trouble. It would be easier if Daryl would lay on his stomach on a flat surface, but Jesus figured he wouldn’t ruin the progress he had already made by offering that suggestion.

“Go on.” Daryl was very aware of everything happening around him. The light of the candle bouncing off the objects in the room. The soft cushion of the couch underneath him. Jesus’ hands inches from the top of his shoulder. His own heartbeat and breath both faster than he would like. The slight tremble of his own hands as they rest against his dirty jeans.

Jesus started by just placing his hand on the top of Daryl’s shoulder and then slowly added the other. Daryl was tense and attempting to manage his breathing, but wasn’t attempting to take off his head so he continued. Moving his hands along his shoulder and connecting tissue, Jesus provided gentle pressure as he explored the area.

After a few minutes, Daryl appeared to manage his breathing better and loosened the tension in his shoulders. Taking his lead, Jesus began to apply more pressure to the muscle surrounding Daryl’s shoulder and tensed himself when he felt Daryl let out a low groan. Not wanting Daryl to revert back, Jesus ignored the noise and continued to provide pressure as the book had described. The small sounds increased as Jesus provided more pressure and soon Jesus felt Daryl ease into his touch.

Daryl knew he was safe in the trailer with Jesus and he could close his eyes and relax, but the ever constant voice in the back of his head would not allow it. He was not use to direct touch, especially prolonged touch. In the past few years, he had grown more comfortable with touch from his new family but it never lasted longer than a hug or a pat on the back.

When he was much younger, his mother’s touch was something he sought out and craved. His whole family was fucked up, but they were not always like that. His mother and father had a decent relationship before the death of his sister. Daryl was almost too young to remember her, but he remembered the smile on his mother’s face when she brought the baby home. Merle told him later that his mother always wanted a baby girl and she had begged their father to have another child even though the family could not afford another mouth to feed. A few days following the arrival of the new Dixon, his baby sister was suddenly not around anymore and no one spoke about her. He had asked his father where Lila was a few days after her disappearance and he received his first black eye from his father. At the age of four, he learned quickly to not ask about her.

His mother fell apart following the death of the baby, withdrawing into his parents' bedroom and refusing to get out of bed. She had Merle bring her booze and cigarettes, and when Daryl was old enough to find both for her, Daryl would bring them as well. There was no more comforting touch from his mother following her breakdown and she continued to deteriorate until her death. His father turned to alcohol as well, but unlike the quiet misery of their mother, his father’s misery was shared with the world. Following the likely suicide of Daryl’s mother, his father increased his alcohol use and began turning to harder drugs. In turn, Daryl had many more days where he was unable to go to school and soon avoided the place altogether. It was easier to ignore what was happening if Daryl did not have too many eyes on him.

“Daryl?” Jesus kept his hands on Daryl’s shoulder but stopped moving them when he felt the quiet sods go through Daryl’s upper body. Daryl had completely relaxed into the touch and appeared content for some time before the tears came, with Jesus unsure if he did something wrong.

“Stop.” Daryl pulled away from the touch and stood up to get further away. He had zoned out for a bit and went back to a place he had not been in a very long time. A place he had put away many years ago. He felt hot and his chest was tight, making it harder to breathe. Using the back of his right hand, Daryl quickly wiped away the tears and avoided Jesus’ eyes as he moved toward the exit.

Jesus watched as the other man left and jumped slightly when the door slammed shut behind the retreating form.


	2. Chapter 2

The joining of the communities increased the number of people with various knowledge from the old world. Among the Saviors were nurses, engineers, nutritionists, athletes, teachers, and a doctorate level social psychologist with an interest in the behavior patterns of ancient civilizations. Part of her job within the Sanctuary was to keep documentation of the members of the community, including family history, education level, previous professions and skills, and other relevant information. Her stance on the dead walking was just the beginning of a new era in human history. An era that people in the future would want record of, much like the history records of ancient civilizations. She had completed most of the backgrounds on the Saviors during her time at the Sanctuary, and was eager to begin her research of the people of Hilltop. 

Unfamiliar with her ways and the need for a written record of their past, many of the members of Hilltop needed convincing to divulge their personal information. With her quiet charm and genuine passion for people, the fifty-year-old woman easily won over even the most hesitant of the group. All but two had scheduled to sit with her. A long haired man, ironically named Jesus and an Alexandrian transplant, named Daryl Dixon. She was saving Jesus for last, with the expectation that a man with such an ironic name would have an amazing backstory. Daryl had continued to ignore her requests and Maggie, the group leader who had recently given birth to a beautiful baby boy, had warned Ziva that Daryl was likely not going to provide her any information. 

Reviewing her notebook from the interview completed with one of the blacksmiths, Ziva smoothed down her long silver hair onto the front of her left shoulder with one hand and held down the pages from turning with her other as a large gush of wind moved past her. With a glance to her side, she watched as Jesus rushed past her to greet the visitors at the gate. Rick, the leader of the Alexandrians, his wife, Michonne, and Carol, a member of the Kingdom. Maggie had spoke about all three of them with great respect when she provided information on her path to Hilltop following the beginning of the new era. Ziva suspected the visit had to do with the disappearance of Daryl, with Ziva given information that Daryl had left in the night two days ago and had yet to return. While everyone knew that Daryl could more than survive on his own, there was concern that his shoulder injury might have caused him issue, or worse yet, that a new threat had emerged. 

 

“Did he take anything with him?” Rick stood with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the area, already looking for clues. The sun was high in the sky and he squinted as his noticed Ziva sitting on the bench observing their meeting from her short distance away. Nodding his head in greeting to the woman,  Rick attempted to place her among the community members. If he remembered correctly, he believed she was a former Savior working on documenting the history of Hilltop and its members. The woman smiled back and then returned to her notebook, giving Rick a moment of deja vu to a time where another historian documented the reign of a former enemy. 

“His crossbow and the clothes on his back.” Jesus turned to where Rick was giving his attention and smiled at Ziva as well. He had been avoiding her for some time and knew that soon he would be one of the only Hilltop members left that did not complete an interview with her. Daryl would likely be the last on her list, if he gave her any information at all. “Maybe we should talk in private.” 

Entering into the main house, Jesus waited as the group gave their greetings to Maggie and her son. Even with the physical distance between them now, the group still had a tight bond and Jesus could tell that they all missed one another. 

“Did you tell them yet?” Maggie glanced at Jesus as she handed over her son to Michonne, who promptly began making faces at the laughing boy. 

Jesus shook his head. “I was waiting until the town historian was out of earshot.” 

“What do you need to tell us?” Carol turned her attention away from the baby and her face dropped as she saw Jesus’ expression. “Is there a new group?” 

“No. At least not that we know of.” Jesus gestured to the group to sit, taking a seat on a fancy chair that was surprisingly comfortable despite its appearance. “I might have spooked him away.” 

“I told you to go easy with him.” Michonne scolded as she bounced the baby in her arms. “He doesn’t take well to attention.” 

“His shoulder has been bothering him, I think it is a combination of the gunshot wound from before and his love for that huge weapon.” Jesus smirked toward Carol as she snorted at his unintended comment. “Anyway, I offered my services-” 

“No wonder he ran.” Carol shook her and glared at Jesus. “You cannot talk like that around him. So what, you hit on him and he ran off as fast as he could. Great.” 

“No. I gave him a shoulder massage.” Jesus paused and glanced around the group for more interruptions before he continued. “I walked him through the whole thing and it was going well. The shoulder was responding and I could tell that some of the tension was leaving. Then he started crying and pulled away. He wasn’t full-on sobbing but I sensed something was off. He rushed out and I guess left Hilltop soon afterwards. There has been no sign of him since. I went out a few times and saw no sign of him. People making trades and scouting hadn’t seen him either. I figured he would have went to Alexandria or the Kingdom, but with you both here, that doesn’t seem to be the case. So meeting of the minds, where did he go?” 

 

***

The worst thing about his father was that you never knew what person you would get. There were days, even weeks, where his father sobered himself up and was decent man. He would find some work and make enough money to pay a few bills and bring home some food. He would never win the Father of the Year, but he provided for his boys and taught them to hunt and fish. But the money led to alcohol and drugs, and he went right back into his cycle of abuse and terror. 

Merle, being the older of the two by six years, received the brunt of the terror at first. Merle tried to protect Daryl from the wrath of their father but soon it got to be too much and he bailed. Merle found a delinquent peer group and, with them, the thrill of chasing a high. Soon, Merle was out of their house, bouncing around between friends’ houses and juvie, until he researched the age of adulthood, and a stint in the county jail for battery and drug possession led him to a military recruitment office. 

Daryl, alone with his father, began to receive the full fury of his father’s aggressive nature when intoxicated. His father took to making moonshine to satisfy his drug and alcohol habit, with his father selling jars to neighbors to make ends meet. Daryl preferred when his father had enough money to get high because he would typically have a burst of aggression and then zone out enough to leave Daryl alone. 

His father’s condition grew worse as Daryl aged, with less and less of a trace of his former father remaining with each year. Daryl found a job at a local bike shop that didn’t require a high school diploma and was able to escape the hellhole of their house for a few hours each day. The money was enough to keep them with food and electricity. However, once his father’s body began to shut down, Daryl lost the job to tend to his basic needs. His father’s mind deteriorated long before his body, with hurtful words thrown in Daryl’s direction daily. 

Towards the end, Merle returned and helped Daryl deal with their father’s final days. Merle had been discharged from the military following a knee injury and taken back into old habits. He heard from a friend that his old man was wasting away and he wanted to make sure the old man didn’t make it out alive. 

The funeral for their father consisted of the brothers dumping his ashes into the river behind their house. No one attended and neither son had any words for the deceased. 

 

Without a direction, Daryl began to follow Merle around Georgia. Merle found he was good at pushing meth and attempted to bring Daryl into the game as well. Daryl, unlike his extroverted brother, did not have the personality nor the patience to deal with drug addicts and left the drugs to Merle. Daryl found odd jobs here and there, with Daryl supplementing their income when Merle used too much of the product and didn’t have enough to sell. 

Following a bad deal, Merle was named by a former friend and sentenced to five years in prison. With Merle gone, Daryl found he had a lot more money at his disposal and found a small apartment of his own. 

Daryl had never lived without the watchful eyes of his father or brother, with the freedom both unnerving and freeing. Daryl developed a friendship with his neighbor and the two spent the majority of their time out in the woods. His neighbor was a bit older than Merle and had grew up similar to Daryl, with parents too wrapped up themselves to care for their children. Jeremy had served time in the military as well, with a bomb taking his left leg and providing him with a purple heart and prosthetic leg in return. Unlike Merle, Jeremy took his injury in stride and decided he would dedicate the rest of his life to finding his own happiness. Jeremy had found solace in the woods and was more than happy to share his knowledge of the world with Daryl. 

Merle was released early due to “model behavior” and overcrowding, and soon tracked down his younger brother. With Merle invading his apartment and bringing around his former drug buddies and new found prison buddies, Daryl was quickly evicted and began following Merle and his degenerate friends around. Daryl lost his job and his friendship with Jeremy. Merle said it was for the best, with Merle expressing disdain over the bond Daryl had formed with Jeremy in his absence. 

The brothers continued on until the dead began to roam. 

But Merle, the selfish bastard, was gone and Daryl had a new family. A family that didn’t care about his shitty upbringing and his listless past. His family saw him as a fighter and a protector. A man far from the weak boy who didn’t defend himself against his drunk father. A man far from the meek man that followed his older brother around like a damn dog. 

Daryl was finally his own man, and a badass one at that. 

Raising his sore shoulder in an attempt to gain some release from the pain, Daryl made his way back into the dimly light Hilltop. It was late and most of the people were asleep after a hard day of rebuilding. 

 

Rubbing the back of his shoulder, Daryl reminded himself he was strong now and knocked on the door. 

“What’ver you’d last time helped.” Daryl skipped over a greeting, never his style, and went straight to what he needed. 

“Come in.” Jesus stood to the side to allow Daryl entrance. He was more than shocked that Daryl had returned to Hilltop and to him for help. Rick, Michonne, and Carol had left a few hours earlier, wanting to return to their respected communities before nightfall. All three had told Jesus to give him time and that they would keep a watch out for him. 

Biting the side of his finger, Daryl gestured to the oils still on the table with his other hand. “What’ll that do?”

“The peppermint one will help soothe the soreness of the muscle. The lavender will help ease it as well.” Jesus walked around Daryl to reach for the oils, opening each one as he spoke about them. “The book, and the program I was training with before, said that the oils help the muscles and the movement for the massage. They won’t hurt and they can be wiped off later if you cannot stand the smell. I found that the peppermint one has an almost cooling effect too, which is a nice contrast to the heat generated from the hands against the skin.” 

Daryl gave a slight nod and then moved to sit in the same spot on the couch from the last massage. Taking a few swallow breaths in attempt to calm his nerves, Daryl unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall down past his left shoulder. “You can use ‘em.” 

With the dim lights in the room Jesus couldn’t see the full effect of the scars but he saw enough to understand Daryl’s hesitation during the last massage. With the way they marked his skin, Jesus could see that the scars were from before the world went to shit and fit in with his theory of early childhood trauma. Understanding that Daryl has likely pushing the bounds of his comfort zone, Jesus made no mention of them or his pride in allowing Jesus to see them, and poured some of the peppermint oil onto his hands to begin. “It might be a little cold at first, but it does have that cooling effect. Let me know if I am pressing too hard. I’m going to touch you now.” 

True to his word, the peppermint oil had an instant cooling effect that switched Daryl’s attention from the beating of his own heart to the sensation of his aching shoulder. Allowing Jesus to press into the sore muscle, Daryl willed himself to relax and began counting down from sevens. Starting at 942, Daryl figured his favorite distraction technique would help him ward off old memories for a few minutes. 

At 592, Daryl allowed himself to close his eyes and relax his neck. At 508, Jesus found a particularly sore spot and he left out a hiss followed by a slight groan as Jesus kneaded away the knot. At 396, Daryl began to lose count and he switched to evening out his breathing. 

Jesus’ hands were beginning to ache slightly with the pressure he had been applying for the past half hour, but he did not want to stop given the reaction he was getting from Daryl. The man had almost fully relaxed his left side and was letting out the faintest of content moans as the muscles making up his shoulder began to find some relief. 

As soon as Jesus started thinking of a way to end the massage, he noticed tension returning to Daryl’s upper body. The sounds of relief were replaced with heavy breathing that quickly turned into a loud cry that stopped Jesus’ movements. 

Daryl curled his body down so that he was hugging his legs and bit his lip to stop the tears. All the pain he had held down for so long was being released and it was too much to handle all at once. He wanted to run to push it back down but he knew his wouldn’t be able to move. He could hear the faint sound of Jesus’ voice but he sounded muffled and distance, like he was speaking underwater. His heart was racing and he could feel it pounding in his ears. And then, all at once, it all went away and he was left with no sensations. There was no sound and no light, and he slipped in the comforting void of nothingness.


	3. Chapter 3

Startling awake, Daryl raised his arm to block the light shining in through the window and reflecting off a glass into his eyes. His shoulder responded with a dull ache and Daryl was reminded of where he was and who he was with. The shoulder massage had helped with the physical injury yet released emotional demons that he had long since repressed. His childhood and former life were distant memories, of little concern during an apocalypse. Fighting for survival left little time for crying over old bullshit that didn’t matter anymore. Yet, whatever Jesus was doing with the massage appeared to rise all the emotional bullshit to the surface. 

“Daryl?” 

A groggy voice was heard from above his head. Jesus must have stood watch over him after he turned his brain off. The light was now filling the room, indicating it was likely midmorning. Keeping his arm raised until the light was out of his eyes, Daryl moved into a sitting position on the couch and scanned the room for Jesus. He found him curled up on himself in a chair diagonal to where Daryl now sat. 

“You are awake.” Jesus winced as he raised his head off his shoulder and moved to straighten his body from the uncomfortable position on the lounge chair near the couch. He had watched Daryl for some time before he found the courage to help him to lie down on the couch. Daryl was generally unresponsive last night, but he gave no fight to allowing Jesus to move him. Eventually Daryl closed his eyes and fell into sleep, with Jesus following him soon after. Rubbing his sore neck, Jesus looked Daryl over and found he appeared to have his full mental capacities. “Hungry?”

“Yea.” Daryl turned his gaze away from Jesus and moved his shoulder in cycle like motions to get more of the stiffness out. The dull ache was still there, but his shoulder felt almost like it had before the injury. “Shoulder’s workin’ fine.” 

Daryl stood and continued to stretch his body, allowing himself to wake up more fully. He didn’t want to mention last night and going blank around Jesus, but he knew the little bastard was going to want to talk about it. 

“I heard that people could do that. Dissociate or whatever.” Jesus stood and stretched himself, attempting to go lightly into the conversation that needed to be had. “It was probably due to the toxins being released from your muscles during the massage. I knew someone that had a really bad flashback following a massage. Went to a deep tissue massage therapist for the first time and had an acid trip for the next couple hours. He hadn’t used anything for years but it lies dormant in fat cells. Freaked him out but the therapist knew exactly what was happening. He was told to-”

“Wasn’t an acid trip.” Daryl cut him off before he could continue to babble for another twenty minutes. Turning to leave, Daryl mumbled over his shoulder, “Gotta piss.” 

“I know. I wasn’t saying-” Jesus stopped talking as he watched the door close behind Daryl’s retreating form. He wasn’t surprised that Daryl did not offer more information, peeling back that onion was going to take patience and gentle guidance. He was going to hold on to the fact that Daryl came back last night and leave it at that for now. 

 

***

“I have time free tomorrow if you would like to sit with me.” Ziva smiled as she sat next to Jesus at one of the community tables. Breakfast was done and people were dispersing to attend to their jobs. Sitting her notebook down between them on the table, Ziva offered him the set of questions she typically began her interviews with. She let the person lead the conversation but there was key items she liked to address. “Most people were skeptical before they realized is not a therapy session and the information would only help to inform the future generations. I know it is early to think about, but life will find a way. Look around, it already is.” 

Tracking Daryl out of the corner of his eye, Jesus smiled back at the silver haired woman. Daryl was at a distance from them, carrying little Hershel around showing him the progress the group had made on the community grounds. The child was too young to understand anything Daryl was likely telling him but he was allowing Maggie well deserved alone time and perhaps Daryl some time to settle himself. “Okay. I will meet with you tomorrow.” 

“Excellent.” Ziva followed Jesus’ eyes and offered a suggestion. “He appears to respond well to directness.”

“I thought you said it would not be a therapy session.” Jesus offered back with a kind tone. He admired the woman for her gentle approach at offering unsolicited advice.

“I am a mother of five and a grandmother to seven.” Ziva turned her attention back to her notebook as she remembered all the people she had lost since the turn. “Old habits die hard.”

“Yes, I suppose they do.” Jesus continued to watch Daryl and Hershel until Daryl walked out of sight. 

***

“I was born in Virginia. Lived most of my life in the foster care system and group homes. My caseworker told me very little about my mother. She was young and involved with degenerates. There was no information on my father. It is very likely that I was the product of rape. I was four when my mother was killed by one of those degenerates. I was with that group for about a week before they realized how hard it was to have a child that age around all the time. They were smacked out of their head most of the time and needed little food, but a four-year-old can only go so long eating scraps before they start to get very cranky. They gave me a note and left me at a hospital that was out of town.” Jesus paused so Ziva could write down the information correctly. 

Writing in her own shorthand to help gather the information, Ziva finished and raised her head for Jesus to continue. 

“I went to different foster homes but those places are always temporary. You get to know a family and then your caseworker shows up to move you to another home just like that. I learned not to get attached very quickly.” Jesus brushed back his hair and sat back straighter in his chair. They were using one of the meeting rooms in the Barrington House. “I thought you said this was not going to be a therapy session.” 

Finishing her sentence, Ziva looked up and offered a kind smile. “I lied. Gets them everytime.” 

“I knew there was a reason I was avoiding you.” Jesus countered back and waved her to continue. He hadn’t talked about this in years and he found by talking about it, he was remembering more of it as well. “There was one house that I loved but knew I would not get to stay at for long. Seven foster kids and two loving parents. They had adopted three former foster kids and were looking to adopt more. They were not able to conceive themselves so the mother went on all the time how she was chosen by God to find children that needed her more than she needed them. Her husband was from a wealthy family and quit his nine-to-five job to start a program for youth in need. The program had many different activities to learn. I chose martial arts because it looked badass and at eleven-years-old being a badass was everything.” 

 

***

“Hey.” 

Daryl stood in the doorway to his meager trailer and stared at Jesus. He had been to Daryl’s place once or twice after Daryl returned from the Saviors, but somehow it was startling to see him at his door. 

“I sat with Ziva today, that lady who is gathering everyone’s backstory and whatnot. She is tricky. Asks you to answer some basic questions about your former life and all of a sudden you are talking about childhood trauma you haven’t thought about in years.” 

Daryl watched with a blank stare as Jesus rambled about the meeting and the topics discussed. He was talking rapidly and Daryl was sure he was trying to get to the point as quickly as he could. 

“There was a boy at one of the group homes. You remind me of him. Quiet yet always watching. Standoffish but loyal to a fault. Smart as the best of them but didn’t like to show it. His past was the thing of Oscar winning movies, which I only knew because of the therapy groups we had to participate in. He didn’t like to talk about it and he rarely gave us anything directly, but you knew by what he didn’t say what had happened. For whatever reason, he liked me. Like, really liked me. He was about a year older than me and I fell for him hard, harder than I have ever fallen for anyone ever in my life. We were together for about six weeks before one day he was just gone. His caseworker found a family member in Texas that was willing to take him and he was gone before breakfast. No goodbye, nothing. I was devastated. The one person who ever truly loved me was taken from me and I had no say in the matter. I ran and thought I would be able to make it to Texas. Sixteen and dumb. I would go to Texas and he and I would have a life together. Only, my life has never been that kind to me. I ran out of money quickly and the police found me. I was considered a flight risk so I was sent to a juvenile detention center. I never saw him again.” 

Grabbing his crossbow from the wall, Daryl walked past Jesus and let the door shut behind him. Walking toward the gate, Daryl looked over his shoulder and waited for Jesus to follow. “Com’ on.”

“I doubt he is still in Texas.” Jesus jogged until he met up with Daryl and then decreased his pace as Daryl continued toward the gate. “The odds of him still being out there are so small.” 

“Quiet.” Daryl ignored Jesus’ sarcasm and keep on his path towards the woods. The community felt too small all of a sudden and he needed more space. From the sound of Jesus’ story, he could use some space as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay. Life is a bitch sometimes.
> 
> i'm not sure how many chapters this will be. I am just going to go until it is done.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea has been stuck in my head for awhile and I decided to see where the story will take itself. It will be a short series.


End file.
